Guilty Crown — the Stupid, it Burns!

I pretty much gave up on it when the stormtroopers showed up to stomp/arrest little miss secret agent/idol singer, but couldn’t be bothered to search the room or even question the male lead for the macguffin. Hello? Right there in the same room — obvious suspect or co-conspirator? Hello? Hello?

Then the resistance let him run off with it during the later fight, rather than taking it and handing it to someone, you know, who knew the terrain and/or had some survival skills. But hey, if they did that, then he couldn’t just happen to run into the girl again, and the vial couldn’t be broken by a near miss from the equivalent of a tank cannon at point blank range — that didn’t even muss his clothing. Or hers. While it was in a pocket sandwiched between them, and on the other side from the mecha to boot. I mean, we don’t have a good shot to judge from, but I think the bore of that gun was on the order of a half-meter in size. That’s five hundred millimeters. Forget the test-tube, at twenty yards range, the shockwave should have pulped both of them instantly.

Big mech, little girl.

Appropriate wear for a music video. Not appropriate for secret-agent skullduggery, fleeing custody, getting shot at by mecha, or war zones in general.

That’s fanservice? Sorry, I have to go back, once again, to Maid Guy‘s classic job description:

Application Criteria: “Girls with breasts larger than D-cup. For every centimeter larger than 95cm, 50 yen will be added to your wage. Anything less than D-cup will not be recognized as breasts. B and A-cups with large stupid gaps for cleavage are absolutely out of the question. Are they even really breasts?”